


The Wolf Among Us

by Nonymos



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Board Games, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Feels, Gen, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Thinks It's Funny, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Mindfuck, Never play board games with Loki, Squint for Relationships, The Avengers get bored, Warning: Loki, Werewolves of Miller's Hollow, Whump, but seriously though, it was either that or playing three questions, loki is a little shit, or the... mafia game?, otherwise known as the werewolf game, psychological abuse, they're evil, you fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonymos/pseuds/Nonymos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where the Avengers play the werewolf game. They know including Loki sounds like a bad idea, but they're so very bored and it's all fairly harmless, really. Locked in as they are, they have to find a way to kill time, or they'll drive each other nuts.</p><p>They'll be fine. It's just a <em>game</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Alright,” Natasha said, still slightly breathless, looking up from her phone. “Coulson says we’re safe in there.”

“Extraction?” Steve asked.

Natasha nodded, pushing back a strand of sweat-damp hair. “Twenty-four hours.”

Tony groaned loudly from where he was sitting, on the bare floor with still half his armor on—he’d only freed his upper body, and his arms were glistening with sweat, smudged with soot and marred with bruises.

“Twenty-four hours?” he protested. “Is he coming for us on snail’s back?”

“Knock it off, rich kid,” Clint said, ripping a piece of molten spandex from his burned shoulder. Stark may be bruised, but the rest of them were bruised _and_ bloody _and_ grimy. “I waited five entire days in a Russian cabin once. Almost froze my nuts off.”

Their banter had enough bite in it to reassure Steve that none of them had suffered any serious injuries. He turned round and asked, “How’s Banner?”

“Out cold,” Loki answered from across the room in his smooth voice. “But otherwise, and unsurprisingly, fine.”

He’d carried Bruce to their underground hideout and laid him down on the only cot they had. This would have been suspiciously helpful of him, if he hadn’t done it only to move things along as they retreated from the battlefield. The safe house was crappy and claustrophobic, bare damp cement with a single light bulb hanging down from the ceiling, and no furniture whatsoever save for that old camp bed, a broken oven, and a three-legged chair. Warzones in the Middle East didn’t get much fancier.

“Thor?” Steve called in his earpiece. “I think that’s enough—get down here.”

A last rumble of thunder shook the ground; then came the roaring noise of a heavy rain, which would ensure their pursuers stayed astray. The door opened on Thor, shaking his long hair to get rid of the first droplets; he closed it behind him and put Mjölnir on the ground before it. It was more symbolic than anything, but if Coulson said they were safe in there, it was the truth.

“Damn,” Tony said under his breath. “One whole day trapped in here. How lucky we’re all of reasonably-sized egos and amiable character.” He waited for a second, pondering, then declared, “I’m either gonna get killed or die of boredom.”

“Accurate,” Natasha murmured.

“I will take you on that bet,” Loki grinned.

 _“You—_ better shut it if you don’t wanna win it,” Clint snapped. “Even you should realize you do _not_ want to piss off anyone right now.”

Loki’s smile only got wider. “Should I feel threatened? It would lay such _terrible_ waste on our bright young alliance.”

“For once, I agree with Barton,” Stark said. “The only reason you’re here is because no one else knew how to operate an Infinity Gem.”

Loki opened his hands. “And I fulfilled my end of the deal, did I not? Not to mention I also, quite selflessly, saved all of our lives over that bridge.”

“That is not quite how I recall that part,” Thor groaned.

“Guys,” Steve said.

His tone was firm and stern enough for them all to stop.

“Tone it down. We’re going to stay here for a day. I don’t want anyone to kill Tony if we can avoid it.”

“Love you too, Cap,” Tony muttered as he cracked open his paralyzed left suit leg. “Jesus, _finally.”_

He painfully got up and stretched himself with a wince, muscles rolling under the black undersuit.

“Alright,” Steve said. “Get some rest, check your injuries. Coulson will be here soon.”

Bruce moved on his cot with a pained groan, and Clint crossed the room to go check on him. Loki’s lips were still stretched on a thin smirk, but he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, content to watch for now. Thor clasped Tony and helped him sit back down, while Steve retreated next to Natasha, who’d pulled out a needle and thread from her first-aid kit and was busy stitching up her own thigh.

“Need a stitch?” she said casually.

Steve sighed and sat down next to her. “I’ll be fine.” He ran a hand over his face and looked around the room. Bruce was still out of it; Clint was glaring at Loki, who was staring at Thor, who tried to keep Tony from getting up again.

A whole day together in this tiny, glum room.

“Maybe ask me again in twenty-four hours,” Steve added.

Natasha smirked, then cut the thread with her teeth.

 

*

 

Unsurprisingly, Tony was the first to crack. _“Ugh,”_ he said. “Come on. Let’s _do_ something because at this point I’m seriously considering going back out there.”

“Why don’t you keep tinkering away with your toys?” Steve asked, looking at the remnants of the Iron Man suit which Tony had used to build a catapult, two tiny automatons and, inexplicably, a tin foil paper hen.

“I’m not a child, Rogers,” Tony said coldly, then ruined his effect by adding, “and I demand we play board games!”

“We could play poker,” Loki said brightly. “I’m good at poking.”

"No,” Thor and Clint said at once.

Loki raised his hands in mock surrender. “Very well. But I reckon it is only fair to warn you that I am getting bored as well.”

Tony scoffed as if this proved his point. “I’m bored, _he’s_ bored, and Banner’s in the room,” he summed up. “If that doesn’t scream disaster to you, I doubt you’re qualified to lead the team at all.”

Everyone looked at Bruce, who’d just sat up and still looked very dazed. He blinked groggily, then gave them an owlish look. “Um. What?”

“We should play,” Clint said hastily.

“Indeed,” Thor approved. “There is no shame in passing time.”

“Dear me, brother,” Loki grinned. “I remember what usually follows that line. Who will you be attempting to fuck?”

 Steve felt his worries escalate along with Thor’s eyebrows climbing to his hairline—but before he could answer, Loki jumped and yowled in pain.

“Whoops,” Clint said, putting down Tony’s miniature catapult which he’d _accidentally_ unloaded right into Loki’s eye. “What are the odds, right? Hey— _what?_ ” he protested when Natasha batted the toy out of his hands.

“Remarkable aim,” Loki said, rubbing his eye with a snarling smile. “It reminds me of a story I heard—”

“Stop,” Steve said. “No stories. Everybody sit down. Doctor Banner: pick a game.”

They all more or less grudgingly sat in a circle, then looked at Bruce.

“Uh,” Bruce said in the sudden silence.

He seemed at a loss for a few seconds, looking around the room. “I… I don’t know a game for—I don’t think I’ve ever played with this many people,” he said eventually.

There was an awkward pause.

 “Yeah, you’re more of a chess and checkers kind of guy,” Tony said.

“We used to play Monopoly back at the circus,” Clint supplied.    

Natasha looked at him like he’d lost it. _“Monopoly,_ Barton? If anything, we’d all kill each other faster.”

Loki perked up. “Tell me more.”

“Brother, be silent.”

 _“Guys,”_ Steve said again. “We don’t have a Monopoly anyway. We don’t even have a deck of cards.”

“So,” Bruce said softly. “What _can_ we play?”

There was a silence.

“Truth or dare,” Clint said.

 _“No,”_ Steve said, horrified.

“Besides, Loki would cheat,” Tony added.

“I suppose gambling is off the table,” Natasha said.

“Not necessarily,” Loki smiled.

“Look,” Steve began, “maybe this isn’t such a good—”

“Miller’s Hollow!” Tony yelled.

They all looked at him and he flashed them a delighted grin. “It’s _perfect,”_ he said. As he was still met with silence, he added, “What—the Wolves of Miller’s Hollow? Don’t you know how to play?”

“I do not,” Thor said before anyone else could speak. “Enlighten me.”

“Is that the billionaire’s name for the mafia game?” Clint asked.

“Steve,” Tony said, “give me a paper and a pen. Chop chop.”

Steve almost protested that it was drawing paper, but decided he’d rather sacrifice a sheet than wait out an inevitable and possibly deadly meltdown. He opened his bag, dug for his notebook and ripped a page, which Tony promptly shredded into tiny pieces.

“Okay,” he said, writing _werewolf_ on one of them and _villager_ on another, then turning them both face-down. “So, the game works in night and day shifts. We all pretend to be harmless villagers, but some of us have special powers, and some of us are really wolves.” He turned the _werewolf_ card face up. “And every night, they come out and eat one of us. So during the day part, without revealing their identities, the villagers take a vote and lynch their primary suspect. But if they’re wrong, they just end up killing one of their own.” He turned up the _villager_ card. “The villagers win when all wolves are dead, and the wolves win when the villagers are dead, outnumbered, or matched in numbers.”

“Tony,” Steve said. He tried to pick his words carefully, then gave up and said, “This sounds like a terrible idea.”

“What?” Tony protested.

“I concur,” Loki said, to everyone’s surprise.

 _“What?”_ Tony repeated, eyes wide. “It’s a mind game! You’re supposed to cheat and lie and hide who you are! Isn’t that perfect for you?”

“It does suit some of us in this room,” Loki shot back with a mean grin.

“Brother,” Thor groaned, “if your only goal is to bring mayhem—”

“It is _not,”_ Loki said, exasperated. “This game is of no interest for me. I will always be killed first!”

There was a silence as they pondered this and realized he was right.

“Then you’ll just be game master,” Tony said, scribbling away. “Here.” He slapped a piece of paper in his hand, “your cheat sheet.”

Loki frowned at it.

 

_CALL ORDER_

NIGHT

_Seer — can ask to see someone’s card. Duh._

_Werewolves — do their thing. Also duh._

_Witch — can heal one person and kill one person per game. Can be the same person. During the same night, even. But that’d be stupid._

DAY

_Debate time. May the sneakiest speaker or luckiest bastard win._

_Rinse and repeat._

“That clears it up,” Loki said sarcastically.

“You can’t make _him_ game master!” Clint hissed. “Are you fucking crazy?”

Thor gave Steve a pointed look. “What do you think, my friend?”

Steve shrugged. Loki looked interested enough by the game, and they did need a distraction. It was the most harmless solution they’d come up with so far.

“Sure,” he said. “Sounds cathartic, if anything.”

“I don’t know these cards,” Natasha objected. “Where’s the fool? And the hunter?”

“We don’t need a hunter,” Tony said.

“Yes we do,” Clint said, forgetting that he didn’t want to play. “The hunter’s the best card.”

“What about the devil?” Natasha went on. “Or Cupid? Or the scapegoat? Or the little girl? And we might need mere villagers.”

“It’s unsettling how well you know this game,” Tony told her. “Look, I’m doing the cards from the version I know, okay? A bunch of villagers… two wolves… there’s the seer who can see people’s cards…  the witch, who can raise the dead, but only once per game—she can also kill someone but again, only once… then the hunter—”

“Thank fuck for that,” Clint grumbled.

“—who can kill someone right back if he’s killed or lynched… aaand the little girl, who can open her eyes during the wolves’ round.”

“Why is it a little girl?” Thor asked, frowning.

“Fuck if I know,” Tony shrugged. “Anyway, if she’s spotted, she’s automatically eaten. And… that’s it. I think. That’s probably it. Okay? Everyone clear?”

As far as Tony’s explanations went, this one was actually one of the clearest they’d ever gotten, and they’d have to work with that. Steve was pretty sure he’d gotten the basic gist of it; and even if he hadn’t, they weren’t sitting idle riling each other up anymore. He’d get the hang of the rules as they played.

Tony gave the pieces of paper to Loki, who read them for a silent minute. Then he glanced around. “Are we all playing?” he said with the shadow of a smile.

“Uh,” Bruce said feebly. “It’s… I don’t think I’ll—”

“Brucie,” Tony complained. “We won’t be enough players without you.”

“Indeed,” Loki grinned. “This game demands a monster within.”

Bruce paled a little and Clint barked, _“Hey!”_

“What?” Loki said innocently. “Fools, hunters, liars and beasts—and me as the game master.” He laughed a little. “I can’t see now how we’d play anything else. This is our common truth.”

 “Jesus,” Clint growled. “You’re so fucking predictable it hurts. You think you can use this against us.” He snatched his piece of paper from Loki’s hands. “You know what? It’s fine. Challenge accepted. We’re gonna play your damn game, and you won’t get anything out of it. ‘Cause we’re a whole team against you.”

“I did not expect any less,” Loki said, infuriatingly.

He dealt the rest of the cards. The Avengers all accepted their paper identities with various frowns and huffs. It was a wonder how absolutely no one looked happy.

 _It’s just a game,_ Steve reminded himself a little anxiously. Then he looked down at his own card.

He glanced up at Loki, who winked at him, then proclaimed, “The night has fallen.” His voice was smooth and delighted when he added, “Close your eyes, players mine.”

And they all did.

 

*

 

Of course, Tony wasn’t going to respect his own rules and started talking as soon as their eyes were shut. “Wait, how many wolves are there?”

“Two, right?” Natasha said.

“And how many normal villagers?” Clint asked. “Because we’re not enough players for—”

“Be silent,” Loki cut off. “You will have to play to find out.”

To Steve’s keen sense of hearing, what followed didn’t sound like silence—someone kept shifting on the ground, someone was breathing a bit hoarsely, and people all around were swallowing or sniffing or coughing a little. Steve coughed, out of empathy, then took a deep breath and focused.

“Seer,” Loki said. “Open your eyes.”

Steve’s eyes blinked open. Loki grinned at him. To see him standing in the middle of their circle, all of them sitting down with their eyes closed, was a bit surreal and more than a little eerie. Steve felt a surge of alarm he fought to repress; he said nothing, and waited. _Just a game._

“So,” Loki said out loud, sauntering out of the circle and walking around it so no one could detect who he was addressing. “Whose identity do you wish to unveil?”

Steve swallowed, then looked around. Bruce was still sitting on the cot, a bit higher from the ground than the rest of them; he looked gaunt and tired, but he was fidgeting in his fake sleep. On his left was Clint, with his jaw clenched; then Natasha, her face smooth and expressionless; Steve himself; then Thor, sitting cross-legged with his fists clenching on his thighs; and finally, Tony, who looked like he was glancing around even though his eyes were unmistakably closed.

Steve realized he wanted the game to end as soon as possible—he didn’t like this. Obviously, Loki had made him into the seer so he could play the role of the audience. Steve could turn it against him, though—it was a powerful card, if he played it right.

 _Okay._ He was a strategist. Who would Loki pick as a wolf?

He looked at them all again. _Bruce. Clint. Natasha. Thor. Tony._

Any of them, really. They were all likely to be insulted or humiliated by the identity of the wolf among them. Steve decided to bet on the biggest grudge, and nodded towards Thor.

Loki’s grin told him at once he was wrong—of course, Steve’s deduction was a bit too predictable. _Damn it._

Loki was already moving across the players to pick up Thor’s card and turn it towards Steve, who read it and felt his eyebrows knot themselves together.

His confused look only made Loki’s grin brighter; he put back down the card then ordered negligently, “Seer, go to sleep.”

Steve clenched his teeth, but obediently closed his eyes again.

“Now,” Loki said, sounding like he enjoyed himself immensely, “let the wolves get loose and advance with wide open mouths.”

Steve heard a snort from Thor. It puzzled him—Thor wasn’t a wolf, so why would he react to that? Loki’s formulation might have something to do with it.

The demi-god kept walking around them with slow, threatening steps, and Steve found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes closed. It went against his every instinct.

“Let a victim be picked,” Loki said in a silky murmur.

There was a heavy silence. Steve listened as hard as he could, but even the rustle of clothes and the intakes of breath had stopped now that they all tried to hear the monsters.

A few seconds passed, then piled up into a minute. Whatever debate was going on took longer than expected. 

Then the demi-god laughed a little; the choice was made. Suddenly Steve could hear them all breathing and shifting again, like a weight had been lifted.

“Very well,” Loki said evenly. “Go back to your slumber.”

He started walking round and round again; Steve could hear his voice shift slowly from side to side as he walked past him.

“The witch may now raise the dead,” Loki said, “or choose to kill another one.”

Steve listened as hard as he could—Tony shifting a little, Bruce’s cot creaking, then nothing.

“Very well,” Loki repeated, with a sharp grin in his voice. “Close your eyes.”

Another few silent heartbeats.

 “Awake, townsfolk,” Loki said.

They all opened their eyes, with some measure of relief, and looked around the room. Loki stood there, hands clasped behind his back, grinning. Everything was the same.

 

Except Clint was gone.

 

All was left of him was his upturned card on the bare floor. Steve could see the words written in pencil.

_Little girl._

“Miller’s Hollow’s awake,” Loki recited in a sing-song voice, “a new dawn has risen; in debate now partake,” he smiled like a shark, _“for Barton got eaten.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something I wrote for my own amusement, really, because I love the werewolf game and I kept wondering what would happen if the Avengers played it. Much mindfuck to follow, and I hope you'll enjoy guessing who's who. Do let me know in the comments. ^^


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a stunned silence.

Natasha was the fastest of them all—she jumped to her feet and tried to sting Loki with her Widow’s Bite; but she struck right through him as though he wasn't there. It was a clone.

“Now, now,” he said, unimpressed.

Natasha let out a gasp of rage. The next second, they were all on their feet and Loki stepped back, raising his hands. “Calm down,” he said, a nasty smile playing on his lips, “or I’ll vanish as well.”

Steve grabbed Natasha’s arm, but she broke free and snarled, “Undo it—undo it _right now!”_

“Ah,” Loki said, mock regretful, “but it’s not that simple.”

“Loki, _enough!”_ Thor yelled, furious. “Bring him back, this instant! This is no game!”

“But it is, brother mine,” Loki grinned. “I am following Stark’s rules to the letter. And Barton is out.”

“Out,” Steve repeated. “What do you mean, out?”

“Out of the game,” Loki insisted.

“It’s a fucking warzone out there,” Tony yelled, “and he was already injured!”

“Tony,” Steve said, wary of Bruce’s reaction to the rising tension in the small room—but Bruce looked more sick than anything else, really; he was still staring at Clint’s card with a look of horror on his face.

“You are vastly overreacting,” Loki said. “Barton needs not be lost forever. When the game is over, he shall come back.”

Steve was furious— _furious_ against himself for allowing this to happen. He should have known better; they should all have known better, really. For all they knew, the mere fact of playing a game had placed them under Loki’s power; he was the patron god of these sorts of things, after all.

And now, he’d gotten Clint. _Again._

“Bring him back,” Steve ordered. “Right now.”

“I can’t,” Loki said, still backed against the wall. “I positively _can’t._ This is not how it works—you must finish the game.”

“What’s this Jumanji bullshit?” Tony growled. “You’re the game master. You can do whatever you want.”

“Let’s all reveal our cards,” Natasha snapped. “That way, the game’s over.”

“I’d advise against it,” Loki said quickly. “You wouldn’t be finishing the game—you’d only be destroying it.” He grinned. _“Fateful_ consequences for Master Barton.”

There was a heavy, tense pause. Steve had no idea how Loki was not catching fire under their combined glares.

“We have to play,” Steve ground out. “I think—we have to.”

“When we are done,” Thor said, “one of us might very well kill you, brother.” His gaze was cold and disappointed. “And it might very well be _me.”_

Loki just smiled.

“Look,” Steve said in a low voice. “We can end this in a heartbeat. We all have the same goal, we’re all on the same team.”

“Ah, but remember—you are not allowed to reveal your identities,” Loki piped up.

 _“Cram_ it,” Tony barked.

He turned back to them. “There are two ways out of this,” he said. “The game is finished when all wolves are dead _or_ when the number of wolves is equal to the number of villagers.”

“There are only five of us left,” Natasha said, picking up. “Even if we lynch an innocent, we’ll be two wolves and two villagers left.”

“Then the wolves win, and the game’s finished,” Steve said. He glanced at Loki. “Right?”

“Aren’t you quite the strategists,” Loki smiled.

“Fuck off,” Tony said. “Actually, do. We don’t need you here for the debate.”

Loki graciously retreated to the other end of the room to let them talk, even though it was such a cramped place there was no way he couldn’t hear them. They all sat down again, Bruce looking small and hurt on his cot.

“Bruce?” Tony said impatiently. “C’mon. We need all the brains we can get, here.”

“Leave him alone,” Steve said.

While he did wish Banner could’ve brought his considerable mind into play, his being too shocked to participate more actively was probably a lesser evil. The last thing they needed was a green incident.

“Fine,” Natasha snapped. “So who do we kill?”

“We have to think according to Loki’s principles,” Thor said darkly. “That much is obvious. Who would he make into a wolf?”

“I thought it would be Clint,” Tony confessed. “I was sure Loki would want to fuck him over.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Natasha observed grimly. “But if we follow that logic,” she turned round, “then it’s got to be Thor.”

Thor’s eyes widened. “What? No. You are mistaken.”

“It makes sense, big guy,” Tony said, a bit apologetic.

Steve’s mind was racing. He’d seen Thor’s card, and he knew for a fact that he was the hunter. And what did the hunter do—oh _God._

Kill someone else when he died.

If Thor died but killed a wolf by mistake, then they’d be two villagers and one wolf left—and the game would go on for another round, with _three of them gone._

“No,” Steve heard himself say. “Don’t kill him!”

Everyone looked at him.

“Why not?” Natasha asked.

“There!” Tony said triumphantly. “Banding together! Steve and Thor are the wolves! Problem solved!”

“I resent such haste,” Thor protested. “What about the doctor? He hasn’t said a word since we started.”

They turned to Bruce, who shrank under their gaze. “I…” he stammered.

“Of course it’s not Bruce,” Tony said, scandalized. “It’s way too obvious!”

There was a dead silence and his eyes widened as he realized what he’d said.

“I’m,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce smiled wanly. “It’s okay. You’re right.”

“It’s not,” Tony said, seeking his words before blurting, “you wouldn’t have killed Clint. Even if you were a wolf, you wouldn’t have picked him first.”

“None of us would have,” Natasha said sharply.

She was painfully right, and they knew it—for a second, they all quickly looked away from each other. Obviously, hey had all vowed to themselves to let Clint play so he wouldn’t feel left out like he did on the field or on the team. Steve swallowed—this game had a way of exposing their hidden motives like it was nothing.

“It’s the game,” Natasha said, teeth clenched.

“Yeah, well, he’s still dead,” Tony said, rubbing his forehead.

"He's not dead," Steve said quickly when he saw Bruce pale even more.

"Whatever, he's gone," Tony snapped. "So _who_ did it?”

They all looked at each other and this time, there was a flash of suspicion in their gaze. Steve felt something twist in his gut. This was too easy—he was turning his back to Loki but he _knew_ he was grinning because they were all marching to his fife.

“Maybe no one did,” Steve said.

When everyone turned to him, he insisted, “He was the little girl.”

“Yeah,” Tony growled. “Bet Loki got off on giving him that card. I shouldn’t have put it in the game—”

 “No, but there’s another reason,” Steve said. “He’s Hawkeye, and the little girl peeks during the wolves’ turn. My guess is, Clint got caught peeking and killed automatically.”

He suddenly realized this was exactly what Natasha had _just_ said— _none of us would have killed him; it’s the game._

How could she know that?

 “Wait,” he said slowly.

He looked around, counting. Two wolves, a hunter, a seer; someone was missing. “There was another character, right? The witch?”

 “Can kill someone or raise the dead,” Tony recited.

“Why did she not raise our fallen comrade?” Thor wondered.

“Maybe she already did,” Natasha said tersely. “If Clint got caught after the wolves’ choice, then _two_ people were meant to die that night. One of them was saved.”

 She was one of the wolves, Steve realized. She had to be. And the other must be Tony—because Bruce was the _witch,_ given the ability to both salvage and destroy—and able only to destroy despite all his efforts. There was a twisted symbolism to Loki’s choices for their roles.

But Steve had got it wrong once; he might be fooling himself again.

From then on, the course to follow was obvious.

“Kill me,” Steve said.

They all turned to him. _“What?”_

“You have to kill me,” he repeated. “Just—I can’t say too much but trust me, okay?”

He should have done this from the start instead of playing along and allowing Loki’s game to mess with their heads. He was sure who _he_ was; and he was a villager. Which meant he just had to die for the wolves to win.

Tony scoffed, half-fond and half-irritated. “Jesus, Cap, you just _gotta_ sacrifice yourself every damn time.”

 “You don’t have to do that,” Bruce said, eyes wide with anxiety.

“I do,” Steve said stiffly. “That’s how he wants me to dance.”

He glanced at Loki, who was watching them all with a big bright smile.  “Are you done?” the demi-god called across the room.

“Don’t,” Bruce said urgently. _“Steve—”_

“It’s alright,” Steve said. “Doctor, it’s just a game Loki turned into a bad joke. We can end it right now.”

 Tony cursed, then mumbled, “I hope you’re right.”

“We have to make a decision,” Natasha pressed.

“Then it is settled,” Thor said, before calling, “Brother, we have made our choice. Come.”

 

*

 

Loki walked in the middle of the circle again, and looked at them all, one by one.

“After a trying debate,” he began, “the villagers came to a—”

“Save the histrionics,” Natasha hissed.

“Some players,” he mocked. “Very well.” He looked at them all, one by one, then simply asked, “So?”

Steve felt a chill go down his spine. Bruce was very pale; Thor was grim and resolute; Tony was restless and Natasha looked mostly murderous. But they all avoided Loki’s gaze.

“Come now,” Loki said. “Who do we lynch?”

Steve realized they didn’t want to say his name, and felt a misplaced burst of warmth. He opened his mouth, ready to announce it himself, when Natasha ground it out.

“Steve.”

“Thank you for speaking up, Agent Romanov,” Loki grinned.

She looked down, swallowing, furious and guilty. Loki tilted his head to the side.

“This game has a way of making us all more honest—doesn’t it?”

“A game, that’s all it is,”she snarled. “Now end it!”

“With pleasure,” Loki said.

Then he looked at Steve.

Steve suddenly felt something tight wrap around his throat; he tensed and clawed at his neck—there were cold hands holding a wire around his neck, strangling him more and more, and he couldn’t _breathe—_

“What’s happening?” Tony screamed from afar.

Other people were yelling, Natasha and Thor, calling his name. Steve choked and arched, trying to suck air back into his lungs. The Loki in the middle of the circle flickered for a split second— _a clone,_ it was still a clone, then the other must be _—_

“Stop it!” Tony shouted. “Fuck, _make it stop!_ It’s over! The wolves win!”

“They do not,” Loki said calmly. “You have only succeeded in murdering your seer.”

Steve could only look back, incredulous and breathless, as his card upturned itself on the floor. 

 "No seer, no little girl," Loki said. “Thus the sightless solely remain.” He made a complicated gesture.

Steve choked and struggled, unable to move, unable to breathe; his ears were buzzing and spots of light marred his vision. He wondered why no one was helping him, then realized, at the way they all frantically glanced around with glazed eyes—they were blind.

They had all just gone _blind._

Loki grinned, standing in the middle of the circle. “And so the game goes on.” He threw his head back and called aloud, _“Night!”_

And it all went dark.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Steve? Fuck. Steve? Wake up, c’mon.”

The hand on Steve’s brow was rough with calluses, but gentle. He winced, then coughed hoarsely; when he opened his eyes, it was all dark.

“Clint?” he choked.

“Yeah, Cap.”

When he sat up, Clint’s hand slid down to his shoulder, and Steve was grateful for its friendly weight. He put his own hand over it and automatically slid his thumb to the wrist to check for a pulse.

“I’m not dead,” Clint told him with wry humor. “But thanks for checking.”

“What—” he coughed again. “What happened?”

“You got lynched,” Clint said. “Sound like it, too.”

Steve could still feel the wire digging into his neck. Loki had almost strangled him to death.

Almost.

“Why didn’t he kill me?”

“Because it’s a game,” a smooth voice said next to him.

Steve startled and whipped round; a soft light had appeared in the darkness. Loki was there, with a flame dancing in his palm.

He smirked. “I was asked to play, and play I shall.” He dropped down the length of wire he’d used to throttle Steve.

“Points for dedication,” Clint said grimly, then halted Steve’s sudden movement with a hand on his arm. “Don’t bother. He’ll just turn invisible or make you blind.”

“You’re cheating,” Steve told Loki. “It’s over. The wolves won.”

Loki just smiled. “Let us watch the next round, shall we?”

He turned round and, as he did, the light came back. Steve blinked.

They were still in the damp little room. Natasha, Thor, Tony and Bruce were there, still sitting in a circle; Loki walked back into the middle with a grin.

“They can’t see us?” Steve asked in a murmur.

“And can’t hear us,” Clint answered tiredly. “It’s all an illusion. He’s playing with our senses.”

“So—you were there all along?”

“I never left the room.”

The remaining Avengers were still demanding to know what was happening, except for Bruce who just sat there on his cot, looking devastated.

 _“Silence,”_ Loki barked. “The night has fallen. The game shall be played.”

They all shut up, gritting their teeth. Steve had never seen Natasha look so murderous—and so… desperately guilty. She’d sacrificed him to save Clint. Except she _hadn’t—_ but how could she know?

“The seer being dead,” Loki said, “the wolves’ turn comes first. Rise, beastly offspring.”

Steve waited with baited breath, looking at Natasha and Tony.

But it was Bruce who retrieved his sight.

He looked around miserably—eyes sweeping sightlessly over Clint and Steve—then glanced up at Loki, tiredly, like a beaten dog who won’t dodge the next kick. The demi-god grinned at him.

“So, doctor,” he said, allowing Steve and Clint to hear but keeping his words from the players’ ears. “Who do we kill?”

Oh, God. There was only _one_ wolf.

This was why the game hadn’t ended with Steve’s lynching; the villagers weren’t matched in numbers. There was only one wolf, and it was Bruce, who looked now ready to fall apart.

“I’m not playing anymore,” he said in a trembling voice, eyes red. “I’m not killing anyone else.”

“What the hell is going on?” Steve hissed.

 “It’s like Natasha said,” Clint answered grimly. “I opened my eyes a little during the wolves’ turn and Bruce saw me—I don’t think he was even trying. He just… gaped at me for a second, and then Loki took me away. Bruce freaked out. He doesn’t know if he’s really killing us.”

Steve’s stomach lurched. He looked back at Bruce. How could he _know_ for sure Steve and Clint weren’t dead? Steve’s throat still cruelly hurt—the only reason he was still alive was because Loki hadn’t _wanted_ to kill him, or Clint, for that matter. They were at his mercy, and Bruce’s wide eyes showed just how much he was conscious of it. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and Steve couldn’t tell whether it was sheer tension and exhaustion, or the effort he had to make not to snap and Hulk out.

It was never about the goddamn game, Steve understood, fury rising more and more. All this bullshit about following the rules— _lies!_ This was just Loki’s illusion powers cranked up to the max, and they’d all let themselves get entwined in that web.

“Son of a _bitch,”_ Steve ground out. “We gotta do something!”

“No shit!” Clint almost shouted, suddenly losing his composure. “If you got an idea, please share with the class! Any time I try something, he makes me blind!”

Steve clenched his fists. It wasn’t just about sight; Loki obviously had all of their senses under control. Tony, Natasha and Thor, sitting helplessly in a circle around Loki, like some kind of sick worship, were struck with selective blindness and deafness, but were also losing their sense of touch at whim; Tony didn’t even react when Loki put a patronizing hand on top of his head.

 “How about Stark?” he told Bruce gleefully. “You already tried once, but only Barton died, thanks to our lovely witch.”

“That’s Natasha,” Clint mumbled.

“So,” Loki went on, “shall we try him again?”

“Bruce had picked _Tony?”_ Steve whispered.

“Apparently,” Clint sighed. “I guess that at the time, he thought Tony would be the most likely to laugh it off.”

“But it’s a _game,”_ Steve protested. “Or—it was supposed to be. We would’ve all laughed it off.”

Clint’s jaw was clenched. “We shouldn’t have made him play.”

Steve looked at Bruce again and felt queasy again—but this time, the nasty taste in his throat was uncomfortably close to shame. The doctor looked utterly drained. He had enough unwanted kills on his plate without the strain of this damn game. But of course, Loki knew that—he knew exactly how to hurt them all.

The demi-god was literally radiating malevolent glee at having them all in the palm of his hand; and Steve was surprised at the wave of pure hatred which washed through him.

“Now,” Loki pressed, clicking his tongue. “Quickly, doctor. You took enough time during the last round. Give me a name.”

“No,” Bruce said stubbornly, shakily.

“Oh—shall we just cancel the whole thing, then?” Loki asked slyly. “But then what of Barton and Rogers?”

“This _asshole!”_ Clint barked.

Steve literally growled in anger and Loki flashed him a smile, apparently delighted to have such an attentive audience. Bruce looked utterly trapped—looked like his worst nightmare was coming to life. He had too little to work with; he had to play the game, just in case it _was_ real, but Loki made it impossible to play.

“What a conundrum,” Loki said with false empathy. “Can you afford to take that risk?”

Bruce was staring into space, breathing fast. Steve could almost hear him think. _What if he refused to play and killed off Clint and Steve for good? What if they were already dead and he was about to kill one more?_

Steve would have admired the intricacy of Loki’s web if he hadn’t been so busy boiling up with wrath.

The worst part was—Bruce didn’t even look panicked. Afraid, yes, but not of anything new. He just looked… resigned. Like he was used to this.

And he was. This game was his life—Loki had turned this game into a mockery of all of their lives. Bruce, the monster within. Natasha, sacrificing others. Thor, a powerless brute. Steve, the helpless audience. Clint, whose only gift proved useless. And Tony…

“What _is_ Tony?” Steve wondered.

It was Loki who answered him, with a little grin. “A villager.”

 _The most boring card._ Of course, Loki hadn’t resisted. It was fitting, too—Tony was the only one here without any innate abilities.

“Doctor,” Loki insisted, menacing. “Time is running out.”

Bruce was still staring into space. Steve and Clint could only watch, breathless, as powerless as the other Avengers sitting there deprived of their senses.

Then the doctor mumbled a name.

“Pardon?” Loki said.

“Thor,” Bruce repeated under his breath.

Loki looked taken aback.

Bruce looked hard at him. “I made my choice,” he said. “And the rules _must_ be respected. Right?”

Loki couldn’t afford to hesitate a second longer—his sharp grin reappeared at once. “But of course.” He snapped his fingers and Bruce went blind again. “Back to sleep, monster.”

Clint wanted to lunge at him but this time it was Steve who stopped him. “Wait,” he murmured. “Wait—I think…”

Clint looked at him, breathless with anger. “What?”

Loki looked at Thor, obviously displeased; but he couldn’t allow Bruce to realize this was all for show. He touched Thor’s shoulder, bringing his senses back.

“You are dead,” he said. “Who shall you kill, hunter?”

Thor glared up—and his eyes, freed from the blinding illusion, had the color of frozen lightning. Loki realized his mistake just as Steve’s hopes were confirmed.

 _“You,”_ Thor roared, and pounced on Loki to slam him down the floor. Loki twisted under his body and tried to scramble back, but Thor grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against the bare concrete so _hard—_

—Steve heard a whooshing noise and a green shimmer washed over the room; the next second, everyone blinked, looked around, and cried out.

“Steve!”

_“Clint!”_

“We’re fine!” Steve said as they all hurried to each other. “It was just for show. We’re both fine.”

“I’m okay,” Clint told Natasha who was frantically checking him for further wounds. “It was an illusion, just a trick, Nat, I’m _fine.”_

 “A nasty game,” Thor said in a gruff voice, getting back up. “That is all it was.”

Loki lay unconscious on the floor. Thor shook his head, with bitter disappointment in his eyes. “I apologize. I should have realized much sooner he would take the opportunity to ensnare us in a spell—sensory illusions on this scale require time and stillness, and we gave him plenty.”

“But who the fuck was the wolf?” Tony said. “Was there even a wolf?”

“It was me,” Bruce said in a wan, trembling voice.

He hadn’t stood up after the illusion had burst; he just sat there, crushed. “I’m—I’m sorry. I should have known.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m so stupid—I believed him. I should have _known.”_

Clint’s face darkened. He walked to Bruce, who blinked up at him; then, sitting down next to him, he pulled him into a hug.

Bruce blinked again, looking astonished; but after an awkward second, his gaze softened a little and he even briefly closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky sigh.

Eventually, Clint released him, but he didn’t scoot away and left his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Uh,” Bruce croaked, like his throat was very dry. He coughed a little. “It’s… it’s not your fault.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve said. “It’s Loki’s fault.”

He sat on Bruce’s other side. “But we should all have known better. Thanks for getting us out of here.”

“I’ve been stupid,” Bruce repeated very softly.

“Wait, _you_ got us out?” Tony piped up—then startled at Clint’s murderous gaze. “Chill out, Barton, I’m just trying to figure out what happened.”

“It was all an illusion,” Natasha reasoned out loud, staring shrewdly at Bruce. “But you couldn’t know that for sure.”

“That’s why I picked Thor,” Bruce said, almost apologetic. “I figured he might know.”

“Indeed,” Thor said in a low voice, “I understood it was a trick, but I was already its prisoner; my brother shielded your ears from my words whenever I tried to warn you.”

“Whether Loki was lying or not, he’d have to lift Thor’s curse to talk to him,” Bruce explained. “And then Thor could do something. Assuming there was something to be done.”

“Doesn’t add up,” Tony objected with a frown. “Why would Loki take that risk?”

“Because otherwise I’d know he was lying,” Bruce said simply. “He had to play along. It _was_ a game, after all.”

His hands were still trembling a little and Steve felt a mixed pang of nasty guilt and sincere admiration. It had been a gamble, and a huge one—because assuming the rules really were law, Bruce would have killed off _Thor._

“We’re lucky you were the wolf,” he said.

Bruce looked at him, seeming surprised again; but then he couldn’t help smiling, a tiny wan smile. When Clint squeezed his shoulder again, he exhaled, and his shivers calmed down a little.

“There was no need to _hit_ me,” Loki groaned from the floor, rolling on his back with a wince before sitting up.

Everyone froze and turned to him. Thor opened his hand and Mjölnir came slapping into it; he grabbed Loki at the throat and forced him back down.

“No— _wait—”_ but the hammer was placed on his chest and nothing could make it budge. Loki uselessly tried to arch, clawed at it and struggled in vain, boots scraping the floor, mouth gaping for air, eyes frantically looking for Thor. He tried to beg, but his lungs were empty and no sound came out of his mouth.

 “You went too far, brother,” Thor said coldly. “Once again.”

Steve looked at Bruce in wordless questioning. Bruce’s eyes flicked down at Steve’s throat, where the deep red mark of the wire lingered; but when he looked back up, the steel in his gaze wasn’t long to fade. He turned to Clint and very slightly nudged him with his elbow.

“What?” Clint said, raising his eyebrows. Then he understood and winced. “Seriously?”

He looked at Natasha, who looked as displeased as him, but nodded anyway, tiredly. Tony, who had followed the whole conversation in silence for once, was the one to speak up.

“Thor, let him go.”

Loki froze, looking at them all, fighting to breathe in quick, shallow intakes.

Thor looked up at them. “You have my thanks,” he said, a bit wearily. “But he did you great harm.”

Clint rubbed his face with a wince. “Thor, no one died. Your brother’s a fucking asshole, but no one died. Let him go.”

Loki’s gasp was audible when the hammer was removed. He let his head fall back against the concrete, and breathed deeply for a long minute. Then he rolled on his side and painfully sat up; when he caught them all still staring at him, he grinned.

“What,” he said, still a bit breathless, “were you not entertained?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then a few days later, they played again but with Coulson as the game master, and it was even worse. The end.


End file.
